


Chocolate Milk, Shaken Not Stirred

by deanharrisackles



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 08:10:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4340801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanharrisackles/pseuds/deanharrisackles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this tumblr prompt: “yes, i know this is a bar but you’re a rlly hot bartender and i panicked and said “cHOCOLATE MILK” when you asked me what i wanted to drink, now i just want to crawl away and hide forever” au</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chocolate Milk, Shaken Not Stirred

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little one shot I felt like writing after I saw the prompt on tumblr. This is un-beta'd so all mistakes are my own.

The bass is pumping loudly and sweaty bodies push up against him as Steve tries to find – what he’s guessing – a very intoxicated Peggy Carter. He grips his phone tightly as he pushes on, a rather alarming text saying ‘help’ still glowing on the screen. It’s not the first time Peggy has sent him questionable texts this week, hell it’s not the first text she’s sent him tonight but it is the first one that has him concerned.

Peggy Carter is by the most capable woman he knows. If someone is giving her shit, she’s be the first to call them out and deliver a swift punch to their  face so, a text that just reads ‘help’ sends chills down his spine. Of course there is a two percent chance that she’s conning him, playing on his overprotective streak to get him out of the house and join her for what Steve is sure a wild night of debauchery. As Steve get’s closer to the crowed dance floor that slim chance that he chose to ignore because well, that would just be a really low thing to do, is growing with every step.  

But Steve keeps pushing forward, developing a heated argument in his mind as he works his way through the throng of scantily clad people. A couple of ass pinches and one overzealous party girl later he finally spots her in the middle of the dance floor, her normally prim and proper curls hanging loose around her flushed face.  Her eyes light up when she catches sight of him and begins pushing her way through the crowd with more grace than should be possible given the amount of alcohol that must be running through her veins.

“Steve!” she cries, kissing him on the cheeks. “So glad you could make it!”

“Yeah, I see you really need ‘help’ there Pegs.” He huffs in annoyance. Out of all of his friends, he believed Peggy would be the least likely to pull a stunt like this. Sharon or Sam, sure – they’ve done shit like this countless of times but Peggy? It’s just not really her style, which goes to show just how much she’s had to drink or just how badly he’s been moping.  

“Oh don’t be such a sour puss Steve.” She says slapping him playfully on the shoulder. “I just wanted to get you out of the house for a change – stop you from thinking about that wanker Rumlow.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Well how about next time you avoid giving me a mini heart attack yeah?”

Peggy nods solemnly in apology. “I know it was a low thing to do but Steve, you haven’t left your apartment in weeks.”

“I’ve just been busy.” He tries to argue but falters when he catches Peggy’s stern face.

“How about we make a deal?” she shouts over the booming music. “I won’t send you false alarms and you’ll stop hiding away and live a little.”

Steve just looks at her, knowing that he’ll never win this. So he nods, accepting his fate as Peggy’s face splits into a wide smile. She pulls some cash out from where it was tucked away in her bra and holds it out for him to take. “Excellent, now go get yourself something to drink, my treat.”

“Pegs you don’t need to-”

“Ah ah ah, no arguing.” Peggy shouts in his ear. “Go get some tequila, get wasted, you deserve it!”

Steve shakes his head. “Peggy...”

She just stuffs the money into his hand with a look of pure determination in her eyes. “Less complaining, more tequila!”

Peggy gives him a forceful push in the direction of the bar cutting off any further protest. Helpless to the current of bodies, Steve is jostled and shoved over to the dark, polished wood of the bar. At the first empty stool, he plops down with a sigh. The bartender is busy down at the other end so he hangs his head and traces the grains in the wood with his finger.

It’s been two weeks since he and Brock broke up. He can’t really say that he’s all torn up now that Brock isn’t in his life; they may have been together for a few months but he was hardly in love with the guy. He met Brock at the gym and they hit it off but things never really settled. Sure they had sex and hung out but there was always something missing between them, chemistry… a connection, something other than the physical. So it’s not like he’s morning the loss of some deep abiding love; it’s more like he’s morning yet another unsuccessful relationship.

Already 35 years old and he is still hopelessly single. It’s a really depressing thought, one that has kept him locked away in his apartment and much to his friend’s frustration, away from them. Who knew finding someone to spend the rest of your life with was going to be so hard?

A shadow falls over him as he continues tracing lines in the bar, reflecting on his sad, pitiful life. He doesn’t pay it much attention, assuming it just another partier looking for a hook up. That is, until the shadow speaks.

“Anything I can get ya pal?” the shadow says in a whiskey rough voice that has Steve’s head snapping up.

He feels his heart stop in his chest the second he looks into the pair of icy blue eyes staring back at him. Dark strands of chestnut brown hair frame the strangers strong cut jaw, highlighting his defined cheekbones and sharp nose. His soft, pink lips are quirked up into a smirk as Steve gapes helplessly at the  _fucking Greek god_  standing before him. Steve’s brain short circuits as he takes in strong, bare arms and a glistening red star tattoo, narrowing his thought process down to  _holy fucking shit_.

“You okay there buddy?” the guy asks, slinging a white dish cloth over one of his muscled shoulders.

Steve blinks and snaps his mouth shut, nodding his head in affirmation. He can feel the heat spread across his face and sweat begin to bead along his temple. 

“What can I get ya?” the bartender questions, still smirking at Steve evident embarrassment.

“C-chocolate milk.” Steve blurts out, his face growing redder. The bartender arches a brow, doing an impressive job of hiding his amusement.

“You do know you’re at a bar, right pal?”

“I – yeah.” Steve mumbles weakly hiding his face in his hands. Right about now, he’d be perfectly happy if the floor swallowed him whole. Chocolate milk…what in the ever loving fuck Rogers?

The bartender just looks at him, his grey blue eyes sparkling. “Anything else besides chocolate milk I can get ya?”

“Double shot of tequila with a side of dignity?” he groans peaking out between his fingers.

“The tequila I can do but, I’m ‘fraid we’re fresh out of dignity.” The bartender smiles as he reaches for a two shot glasses from under the bar. He slaps them down with a clunk and fills them to the brim with sweet, clear liquid. A salt shaker and lime is placed in front of him as the bartender slides his drink over. Before raising his glass, the handsome stranger tips some salt onto the fleshy juncture between his thumb and pointer finger, prompting Steve to do the same. “To dignity.” He says, some of the alcohol sloshing over the brim and trickling down his fingers. Steve suddenly has a very intense urge to lick it up.

The bartender brings his hand up to his mouth and sucks the salt away before tipping the shot back, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.  _Holy fuck_.

“To dignity.” He chokes out before slamming the shot back. The liquid burns as it travels down his throat, warming his belly. Those cool grey blue eyes are smiling at him mischievously as Steve drops his empty glass and reaches for the lime. The tangy sweetness of the fruit makes his lips pucker but chases away the sharp bitterness of the tequila.

“Another?” the bartender asks smirking at him. Steve is all but ready to get wasted with the smoking hot bartender but before he can answer, a body is crashing into him, screaming his name.

“Steve!” Peggy shouts between giggles, “I found Howard! He’s invited us over to his place for a night cap! C’mon!” she begins pulling on him, possessing far more strength than he would have guessed. Before he knows it, she’s pulling him away from the bartender. He quickly throws some money on the bar and shoots the gorgeous man an apologetic smile as he’s once more swallowed up in the crowd but not before he sees the cocky smile slip from the man’s face. Steve has the urge to run back and apologize but Peggy is like a freight train, pulling him from the building and out into the evening air.

Howard is standing at the curb next to his limo with his arms crossed. A few photographers float nearby, the flashes from their camera bouncing off Howard’s smug face.

“What’da say Rogers, you ready to get shitfaced?” Howard asks as they approach. Steve thinks back to less than successful night and nods his head fervently.

“Just no chocolate milk.” He grumbles. Steve’s pretty sure after that disaster; he’s never going to think about chocolate milk the same way. It’s a shame really, he fucking loves chocolate milk. Howard and Peggy shoot him a questionable look before shrugging and piling into the car. Steve falls in behind them and rests his head on the cool glass, the bartender’s blue eyes and soft lips still haunting him. Oh yeah, he is definitely ready to get wasted.

**

To say that Steve has a headache would be an understatement.  _A huge fucking understatement_. The headache that’s currently beating out a nasty tempo against his skull is brutal; in fact he’s pretty sure that his head is about to burst open and his brains are just going to spill out onto the pavement. It’s a miracle really that he’s even up and walking to be honest. If it was any other day, any other time he would still be back in bed willing his disastrous headache away, nursing a piping hot cup of coffee. However, to his great misfortune, his cupboard is decidedly lacking in the precious grounds. So here he is, trudging to the local coffee shop on the corner, hiding his bloodshot eyes behind sunglasses.

He passes through the front door of the shop, cringing when the little bell overhead clangs loudly against the glass, sending a bolt of pain lancing through his muddled mind. Suppressing a moan, he shuffles over to the line inhaling the delicious smells of fresh brewed coffee and baking pastries. As the bell rings again, causing him to wince once more, Steve comes to the decision that he will never, ever in his life party with Howard Stark again.  _Ever_.  He doesn’t really remember much after he and Peggy left the bar. Of course the one thing that he remembers in startling clarity is his epic fail with the drop dead gorgeous bartender. He can feel his face flush as he thinks back to his utter embarrassment.

Steve is so busy reliving his horror that he loses track of his place in line and is startled out of his thoughts by a frighteningly familiar voice.

“What can I get for ya pal?” the barista asks, Steve’s jaw unceremoniously dropping to the floor. Standing before him, his long hair tied back in a messy bun and black apron wrapped around his toned body is the very source of his mortification – the bartender from last night.

“So what are you, barista by day bartender by night?” Steve blurts out pulling his glasses from his face, his mouth betraying him once again.  The barista/bartender gives him a once over before his eyes light up with recognition.

“Well, I gotta make money somehow right?” the man smirks, “You lookin’ for some chocolate milk?”

Steve ducks his head but can’t help the chuckle the escapes past his lips. “No, I think I’ll go with a coffee this time, black please.”

“Sure thing pal.” He says ringing his order up. “It’s gonna be a minute so grab a seat, I’ll have someone bring it out to you.”

“Great, thanks” Steve smiles, his face burning bright. The barista/bartender returns the gesture, making Steve’s heart pound a little bit faster in his chest. He finds an open table that has a perfect view of the counter. Steve finds himself enraptured as he watches the barista/bartender move around preparing Steve’s drink. There is a sort of graceful power in all of his movements, strong and controlled. It’s intoxicating.

Steve doesn’t really know what to do with himself – what to think. He was kinda hoping that he would never have to see this guy again, to save him from having to relive that moment. But then again he’s a little…hopeful? The guy is clearly attractive – a blind man could tell you that – but there is something else that has Steve wanting to be around him. Something more than just his looks – a physical pull that’s found in the depth of the man’s smirk and the light glinting in his eyes. It only took him a few seconds to understand that.  Maybe this is fates way of telling him something – what it is, he has no idea. Another hook up? A relationship that will last longer than three weeks? Who the hell knows? What Steve does know is that he wants to be near this guy for as long as he can.

He watches as the barista/bartender steps out from behind the counter and makes his way over to Steve’s table. With two steaming cups in his hand, the man pulls out an empty chair and sits down across from Steve, pushing his drink over to him. Steve accepts it gratefully and brings it to his lips, nearly burning his tongue on the hot…chocolate.

Steve pulls the cup away his brow furrowed in confusion. The barista/bartender burst of laughing, his eyes crinkling adorably in the corners.

“I’m sorry.” He gasps betweens his laughter. “It was too good to pass up, I had too.”

“Nah it’s alright.” Steve smiles. “I deserved it.”

“I got you your coffee right here.” He says sliding the second cup over. “I’m Bucky by the way.”

“Steve.”

“You try to order chocolate milk at bars often Steve?” Bucky asks, leaning back in his seat.

Steve huffs. It doesn’t look like he’s going to ever live that one down. “No actually, I was just distracted that’s all.”

“Oh yeah by what?”

“You.” Steve says plainly. After all, he was never really one for beating around the bush. It’s Bucky’s turn to look like a fool, his mouth dropping open with surprise. Steve can’t help the smug little smile playing on his face. Bucky blinks a few times before gathering his composure – Steve mentally punches the air, evening out the embarrassment score. But Bucky ups the ante by leaning forward on his elbows, pushing into Steve’s face – something dark lingering in his eyes.

“Well that is certainly somethin’” he says in a husky voice. “How’d that tequila treat ya?”

Steve groans rubbing his eyes, his head throbbing painfully at the mention of alcohol. “Better than it should actually, doesn’t seem to wanna leave.”

“You know, there’s a place around here, I’ve heard it’s got a killer hangover cure.” Bucky points out, his breath ghosting over Steve’s face as he leans in close. Steve swallows attempting to keep his own breathing steady and even, ignoring how his heart is tapping double time against his ribs.

“Is that so?” Steve questions.

“Yeah, it might be able to help you with your little problem.” Bucky shrugs. “But that’s just what I’ve heard.”

Steve chuckles, playing along with this game unfolding before him. “So where is this place?”

“Well,” Bucky says picking up Steve’s abandoned hot chocolate and taking a long pull. “That depends, you willing to wait a few minutes?”

“Sure, if this cure is as great as you say it is. Why?”

“I’ll take you there myself, I just gotta finish out my shift.”

“Well, I’ve got no plans.” Steve says flashing Bucky a smile.

“Then we’ve got ourselves a date.” Bucky knocks on the table before standing. “And I promise there is no chocolate milk involved.”

“Damn.” Steve sighs, faking his disappointment. “I don’t know if I can go now.”

“Really, chocolate milk is a make or break for you?” Bucky snorts.

“What can I say; I am huge chocolate milk fan.”

Bucky shakes his head. “Well I’m sure we can work something out.”

“I certainly hope so.” Steve says raking his eyes up and down Bucky’s form. Bucky rolls his eyes before heading back to the front counter, shaking his hips a little, making Steve nearly swallow his tongue. He can hear Bucky cackle as he takes the next customer’s order –knowing exactly how much he is making Steve crazy.

Steve runs his fingers through his hair, his monster of a hangover suddenly not so bad as if just talking to the handsome barista/bartender is enough to make him feel like he’s floating on could nine. When he woke this morning, his only plan was to inhale massive amounts of coffee and try not to die. Now here he is looking down the possibility of a date, with probably the most attractive man he has ever seen.

And to think this all started because of chocolate milk. Who would of thought?


End file.
